Moments
by olderwiser
Summary: (Rework, reupload) After finals at Dumbledore University, a hasty break-up and a few Goblintinis, The Heroine's Weird Friend and The Heroine's Friendly Boyfriend revive and live the moments that define their changing relationship. How much is a moment worth? Harry/Luna, AU, ignores Book 7.


_**Moment(s)**_

 _ **August - Luna**_

Clouds blocked the moon, but the zig-zag _crack!_ of lightning illuminated the London road off and on, like a faulty bulb.

Leave one young woman, the well-known road was vacant. She walked leisurely, as if the rain were sunshine, but her hair was plastered to her face and neck. Her bright raspberry top had turned the dense color of homemade jam.

After brief displays of mists and drizzles throughout the day, the two downpours had begun: hers and The Sky's. When her window and eyes were so wet that couldn't see through them properly, she had gone outside to cry, so she wouldn't cry by herself. Nevermind that it was almost midnight, or that the nights had gotten colder, or that she was a female, alone.

She greeted the rain like a long-lost mother, allowing the water envelop her, protect her. Anyone else that might brave the storm and recognize her would think that she was walking along Just Because. That she was the same, dreamy girl instead of what she felt like tonight.

Though she had tried, she couldn't fight what was happening to her heart, what had happened over these past hours—days—weeks—months—since it had begun, this dangerous game she had forced it to play.

Another bolt made the street glow white. Shadows inverted, and it became a world of ghosts. A phantom streaked past, pulling the top of its coat over its head. It disappeared into the storefront ten steps up and to her right.

Soon she was at that same door.

 _THE LEAKY CAULDRON_

 _This_ was where it had begun back in May, when final grades had been awarded at the University. She had been celebrating alone with a Goblintini, something the bartender had suggested.

Her hand was on the weathered knob before she'd decided if she wanted to go inside or not.

The ancient pub had nearly been empty that evening in May, as most of the Wizards and Witches her age were going to "hotter" places to drink. So when she heard someone shift onto the stool three spaces down and ask for a shot of Firewhiskey and a bottle of Bitterbeer, she had looked to see who it was.

Now, she opened the door.

"Luna?"

The dialogue was the same, the slightly-shaken way he said her name, but the word struck the air in real time. The phantom had revealed himself.

 _ **May - Luna**_

"Harry?"

Luna hadn't expected him, referred to as "Big Man on Campus" or "The Boy Who Lived" by friends and fans alike at the University.

Dumbledore University had been built as an option for Witches and Wizards that wanted continue their education in a variety of professional fields. The University had been erected close to the Muggle community in London so students would learn to interact with and become more aware of the Muggles on a daily basis. The balance of magic had shifted in this area, so students had been surprised and delighted to find magically-altered Muggle amenities around the school, dorms, and nearby flats.

No secret was made about Harry's Major at Uni. Luna's well-trained ears had heard he was studying to be an Auror long before Harry's girlfriend and Luna's roommate, Ginny, told her. Ginny was a year behind Harry in the same field, while Luna Majored in Magical Arts and Journalism because she had trouble choosing just one.

Ginny remarked every so often that Luna should be an Auror, too. She would cite the battles they had fought when they were fourteen and fifteen, and said things like, "It would be like old times!" But Luna never wanted to make a life out of chasing bad people, no matter how exciting it had been. Yet Ginny had chosen her Major, mostly, for that very reason.

Rest-ly, Ginny had chosen her Major because it was Harry's.

Luna had known Harry for over a quarter of her life, but they never had a steady friendship. Harry had invited her to a party once, but, being who he was, went off to chase another student before they'd been there a good hour or so.

Luna had only begun seeing Harry more often because Ginny liked to include Luna when her boyfriend was over, and she didn't want Luna to feel left out. Luna had tried to tell Ginny that not only did she _not_ feel left out, but that she'd rather go doodle, paint, make a pair of Gobstone earrings, search for hinkypunks, eat a flobberworm—do almost anything at all than be a third wheel. Ginny didn't seem to her hear her, and Luna gave up her protest. The pros of having Harry around so often didn't outweigh the cons, and she could still doodle while Ginny and Harry were Being A Couple.

She did that often, taking up the sketchpad and charcoal she kept handy on the coffee table when she got bored of the medical and romantic drama Harry and Ginny watched on the television, or when the study session Harry was supposed to be assisting with turned into a rousing, two-player game of Public Displays of Affection. Harry was at the flat so often that Luna saw him at the breakfast table most mornings, as if he lived there, too. He practically did, so she couldn't _help_ but get used to having him around.

It took Luna five years to get used to Harry Potter, even though he had been a companion in her thoughts for the same amount of time.

What had started out as a distinct _like_ had exploded into a full-blown crush by her Fifth Year. Harry had been one of the first people at school to treat her with something more than pity and less than resentment, and even Luna could agree with the Hogwarts females (and a handful of males) that said he was handsome.

There was no goal at the end of her feelings, as she'd seen Harry as something that could only become tangible with certain permissions, the way clay could only be artfully molded by a talented sculptor. Back then, when Harry dated Ginny for the first time, Luna hadn't attempted to change her feelings. She considered herself wise enough to know that she would end up liking someone else more than Harry, or that, less likely, one day Harry would find his way to her. By the time she graduated from Hogwarts, her crush had turned into an engraved but muted affection. No account was made for Ginny and Harry's first break-up.

Yet, when Ginny confided the re-coupling of the Hogwarts flames this past January, the news took hold of Luna's heart and squeezed.

Then Ginny was confessing that she had never stopped wanting to be with Harry( even though it wasn't much of a confession, as Luna thought confessions were supposed to be secret) and that she had asked him to be her boyfriend again on Christmas Day. Luna had wondered if she would call Ginny brave for doing so.

And if Ginny was brave, what would that make _her?_

Harry was smart, athletic, friendly... he was _so_ friendly to Luna... but Luna was not brave.

Harry asked about her day and listened, even if she talked about her suspicions that Neville's pet toad, Trevor, was really an Animagus by the name of Jim Finnell. If Harry stopped by the flat before Ginny got home, he would stay to read and discuss her latest articles for the school paper, The Wart Times.

Harry would help her make a new piece of jewelry, using crasins or piano keys or tiny catnip mice she got from the pet store. He would tell Luna about the spell mishaps in his classes, and teased her here and there to make her laugh, like asking, after she modeled a finished product for him, if she wanted to risk being chased down the street by a mob of cats for the sake of fashion.

Harry admired, and at Luna's request, critiqued, her Magical Arts assignments. Once he even asked if he could buy one, a portrait of herself lying among a sea of stars and planets, done in oils.

"The landscape is _so_ cool, isn't it Ginny?" he'd asked, pointing. Each star shone on and off, and the planets moved. "The sky looks so _real_."

Harry helped Ginny with her homework and did the same for Luna, as both girls were taking some of the General Electives he had done the year before. He would move from his spot next to Ginny on the couch to where Luna was crouched over the coffee table and ask if she was stuck on anything.

Sometimes Luna said no, even if she _could_ use the help. Sometimes she told the truth and said yes, and sometimes she lied and said yes—the closest to Being Brave that she'd ever been. Half of the time, Luna could pretend that Harry's faint cologne wasn't making her want to bury her face in his neck, and that she didn't enjoy feeling his shoulder pressing against hers when he leaned to take a closer look at her textbook.

Day after day they shared, cracking inside jokes because Luna had forgotten Ginny was in the room, "outside." Day after day Luna fell for Harry, even when Ginny moaned with good nature and demanded to be let in on the laugh, the story, the game. Night after night, Luna dreamed of Harry, and her engraving of affection turned into a red-hot brand.

Maybe the Universe was celebrating with her on this May night... it had been kind enough to let her see Harry without Ginny on his arm as congratulations for passing two sets of finals with flying colors.

Not that she would act any differently.

The same play still had to go on, and Luna's was cast as the Heroine's Weird Friend, just as Harry was the Heroine's Friendly Boyfriend.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, glancing at Tom the bartender to see if his drinks had arrived yet.

Luna gestured to her bright green Goblintini. "Celebrating. I aced my finals, so I wanted to treat myself. I'd wanted to buy pistachio coconut ice cream, but Fortescue's was closed," she lamented.

"Ice cream's for _children,_ " Tom sneered.

Luna smiled at him and turned to Harry. "What are _you_ doing here? Ginny told me all of you were going to the Burly Troll."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and shrugged.

Something was wrong with him.

His shot and Bitterbeer was set down, and he dashed the contents down his throat. "Ginny broke up with me."

Luna's smile waned, and she took a sip of her drink to give her mind a chance to run through that line again. She wasn't usually at a loss for words, and the feeling was unnerving. Luna tried to ignore it and asked herself how a normal person might reply.

"What happened?"

"She got pissed, stupid, stupid pissed. When I tried to cut her off, she yelled I wasn't her mother, my hair wasn't even red. I said enough was enough," Harry went on, going from annoyed to angry, "and she told me to stay the hell out of her life.

"...That's the short, clean version."

"I'm sorry." That was also a normal response, Luna decided, and an honest one, as she did feel sorry for him. Luna had rarely seen Ginny drunk, but when she overdid it either Hyper Happy Ginny or Ready To Row Ginny appeared. H.H.G. was okay, but Luna had seen R.T.R.G. once and it wasn't pretty. Disagreeing with R.T.R.G. on her drink intake or her favorite Quidditch team were just a few examples of B.I.s (Bad Ideas) and C.F.A.s (Causes for Alarm.)

"Yeah, me too." Harry took his beer and raised it to the rim of Luna's glass. "But cheers, Luna. It's still the end of the school year, right? I don't want to ruin your celebration."

"You're not. I wasn't expecting to have anyone else to celebrate it with. Except Tom, of course." Tom smirked at her.

"Why didn't you just come out with us in the first place? Everyone at the Burly Troll was celebrating one thing or another."

Now it was Luna's turn to shrug. "I can't relax there. It's as if I'm in the midst of a horde of stampeding warthogs... not my thing."

Harry laughed and ran a hand over the new, smarter haircut Ginny had convinced him to get. "You know... it's not really my thing, either. I'd rather come here, but nobody else wants to. They say it's for old Wizards and kooks."

"Hey!" Tom gave Harry the evil eye.

Harry grinned. " _I_ didn't say it, Tom."

Tom snorted, and Luna thought Harry was his most charming when he wasn't trying to be.

The pair centered their small-talk around the University, though Harry, as usual, was much more interested in discussing Luna's schooling than his own. When Luna asked him about his classes, he only gave her funny anecdotes and centimeter explanations of the coursework, then flipped the subject back her way. Luna asked for a second Goblintini and Harry a third bottle of Bitterbeer. Then he added shots of Firewhiskey for both of them.

When their drinks came, Harry raised his to Luna's. "To you, Luna, for being here tonight. I thought I would be wallowing in my own misery, getting ripped all alone, but it's nice to have a partner along for the ride."

"I wasn't going to get 'ripped,' you know. I was just celebrating."

"Who says we're not celebrating?" Harry countered wickedly, throwing the shot back.

Luna copied him, wincing as the burning drink made its way into her stomach. Harry was quiet a moment, as if he were deep in thought—then he exhaled loudly and Luna knew his pause was due to the liquor.

He took a swig of beer. "I hung your painting up in my bedroom. The night one," he said, out of the blue. (Luna wondered why the term was "blue" and not say, "yellow.")

"You did?" Luna forgot to hide her loud, pleasant surprise.

"I hung it right across from my bed, so I could see it before I went to sleep. I really love that painting. It's one of your best."

To think of Harry sleeping, right across from her— _cough—_ her _painting_ —was making Luna blush.

Her. Luna Lovegood.

Strange.

"Ginny wasn't happy when I hung it up, but I told her she needed to stop being so jealous."

" _She_ was _jealous_ _?_ " Luna's personal heat wave rose. "Why?"

"You know how Ginny is," said Harry offhandedly.

"Yes, but…" Luna stared into the remains of her drink. "I didn't think Ginny saw _me_ as... an enemy."

"Ginny sees _every_ girl as a competitor, whether it's in Quidditch or classes or boys. Even her friends. It's not that she doesn't like you, Luna. Ginny likes almost everybody, and you're one of her _best_ friends. It's just how she is."

This was news to Luna. In her eyes, Ginny had always been so confident, so secure. To hear that she thought of Luna as competition made Luna want to laugh and cry a little, because she couldn't compete with Ginny. Ginny was too pretty, too perfect. Luna was the three-legged mutt trying to run the big race with the streamlined greyhound, never winning.

"I understood why she was jealous, though, at least this time. I love the way you look in that work... like you're floating away. It's my favorite picture of you, better than any of the photos I have. That's why I wanted it. It's—you're beautiful."

Luna felt like she had stepped out of her body and was standing next to the stool, looking at herself. Watching to see how she would react.

"Are you... drunk, Harry?" It was the only thing she could think to ask, even though she was steadily heading towards oblivion herself.

"...Not drunk enough to say such things, right?" He waited for a response when Luna couldn't give him one. "But I don't care. I'm having one of those nights, Luna, in case you couldn't tell."

"I could," she whispered, unable to choose a victor between elation and guilt. Harry had wanted that picture because of _her_ … while lying to his girlfriend about it. Did that mean he...?

"You can always tell, Luna," said Harry, sighing. "You always see people for what they are... you can decode them, their thoughts, actions... everything..."

"Everyone but you, Harry," Luna mumbled, polishing off her Goblintini.

"What?"

Oh my. She'd actually said that aloud.

"You can't see me?" Harry asked.

Luna needed a minute, so she ordered another round, even though they'd probably be better off without them. "You're... opaque," she finally answered. "Like porcelain. I can see your shape, your outline, but I can't see inside."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"It depends. Do you _want_ me to see you?"

"Yes," Harry whispered, suddenly sounding very lost and broken, like a little boy.

A beat passed, and Luna realized she was holding her breath.

Her. Luna Lovegood.

Strange.

 _ **August - Harry**_

It wasn't his imagination. Luna was here.

She was soaked to the bone, too. Harry's jacket hadn't made much of an umbrella. He could perform a charm be toasty dry, but he didn't want to. He had always been comfortable soaking in his personal misery, to feel it, all of it, cold and overwhelming.

"Luna." Two of the heaviest syllables his tongue had ever lifted.

She turned away—she was going to leave—

"Don't—!"

His Auror training helped him leap over two stools, and his wrinkled fingertips closed around her arm.

Luna turned back, her eyes filled with exasperated tears. "What do you want from me, Harry? What? The same thing—the same thing you always—the only thing you think I'm good for—"

"Stop it!" he shouted. "Stop... stop... stop..."

Harry couldn't say anything else.

He couldn't let her go, either.

 _ **May - Harry**_

 _Do you want me to see you?_

"Yes," he'd whispered, desperately.

Why did Luna affect him like this? Ever since he met the girl, almost four—five?—years ago, he found that he couldn't lie to her. He could lie to himself, to others, but could only avoid Luna's gaze.

Luna said he was opaque, but when she fixed him with one of her patented Luna Stares, Harry felt like cellophane.

He thought she could see how much he hated himself. His nickname was "Big Man on Campus," but it was his occupation, too. He had to set an example for the community, shake hands with the leaders of the Ministry, deal with the constant staring and requests for autographs while he was in the cafeteria or the toilet, and smile, smile, smile. He had to show everyone how hard he could work, how talented he was, and what a great Auror he'd be, even though the pressure got to him so often he fantasized about dropping out. It had been his dream job once, but, older and wiser, he didn't know if he wanted to do it anymore.

His problems with school were similar to his problems with his new ex-girlfriend. He liked Ginny a lot, but that wasn't the only reason why he was with her. For starters, being Ginny's boyfriend just seemed right. He was ranked number one in his Auror class, and Ginny held the same position in hers the year below. She was the daughter of a prominent, pure-blooded family, and, like Harry, was envied by her peers. She was his best friend's sister, too. The only way they could be even more of a perfect match would be to wear the same clothes. (Ginny had pointed out matching outfits once, but he'd refused.)

When Ginny told him she and Luna would be roommates their first year, Harry hadn't thought on it for more than a second. Yet as he began to interact with Luna more and more, Harry changed...

He went from thinking about Luna almost never to finding her on his mind when his responsibilities weren't bogging it down. Butterflies tickled his stomach when he put his arm around her to point at a problem in her textbook, or when he smelled her perfume on a shirt when deciding which of his clothes were dirty enough to launder. He found himself visiting Ginny more than ever, but could find an excuse to leave if Luna wasn't home, too.

Sometimes he avoided Luna's eyes, afraid that she would read the hieroglyphics within and decipher his "brotherly" affections, or see the reverse side of every memory they had shared; memories where she would look up to see him staring at her. Memories where they would say the same thing at the same time and he would blush. Memories where he looked at the painting on his wall and kissed the girl inside in his dreams.

He remembered the Moment things changed, when he stopped denying that he saw Luna as herself instead of "Luna Lovegood from Hogwarts" or "Luna, Ginny's Roommate."

He and Ginny had just watched a B-grade romantic comedy Ginny had chosen on a cable channel. "I'm bored. We should go bug Luna," she suggested, blacking the screen over the closing credits.

"Why would 'we' want to do that?" Harry asked.

"She's been way too quiet lately. I know she's been working on a project that's worth twenty percent of her grade, but this is strange, even for her. She hasn't slept for the last two nights."

"Two nights?" Harry had been so busy inside his head this week that he hadn't been around as often. Why hadn't he known—why hadn't Luna told him—why hadn't he asked when he saw her wide, red eyes passing him on campus with a quick "Hullo?" He could've brought her a dish from the Chinese restaurant the girls favored, or some of those Red Bulls. Or just himself. He could have done the grunt work like washing her brushes and organizing the color palette she was working with. She'd taught him enough to know.

"But... if she's working, and she hasn't asked for help, shouldn't we leave her alone?" Harry asked.

"Luna won't be mad. Luna doesn't _get_ mad. Besides, she needs a break." Ginny was already getting to her feet, so Harry followed her out of the living room and down the short hallway.

Ginny knocked at the extra bedroom that was Luna's studio, and announced herself _as_ she went inside. "Luna?"

A long silence made Harry curious and apprehensive, and he pushed ahead of Ginny. "Luna?"

Luna was sitting on a stool, behind an easel and canvas that Harry could only see the back of. He wasn't sure if she was happy or sad, only that she was exhausted.

"It's finished," Luna whispered, beginning to smile.

Ginny went around the easel to look at the canvas, then squealed and clapped. "That's wonderful! Come see this, Harry!"

Harry went to Luna's other side. Her eyes were bright as stars, and she glowed _._

He recognized this as her truest sense of happiness. It was the second time he had seen it, so he knew. The first was when he had asked her to go to the Christmas Party his Sixth year at Hogwarts.

When Harry saw the painting, and he glowed, too.

Luna had painted herself beneath the sky, her hair sprawled over the grass she lay upon. Stars, planets, and moons sparkled above Luna's head, slowly going in and out of focus, rotating, revolving, disappearing, reappearing.

Harry took a step closer, not to examine the galaxy more closely, but to judge who Luna had painted herself as. Most self-portraits were configured to look like the artist's _perspective_ of themselves, but the Luna on the canvas was identical to the one on the stool, from their shimmering silver eyes to their content smiles. The only difference was that the painted Luna wasn't as tired.

Suddenly Harry was offering to buy the painting, so consumed with the thought of having this captured Moment of Luna's for his own that he almost didn't see Ginny's wide-eyed look. To appease his girlfriend, he made excuses about his love of the landscape and joked about turning Luna into a professional artist. Finally, Luna told him she would give him the painting after it was graded, but wouldn't take his money.

"If you enjoy it that much, I've already been paid," she told Harry, staring down at the floor.

After that Thursday, "Luna, Ginny's Roommate," was simply "Luna," and Harry was officially hooked.

It wasn't just Luna's beauty, unpolished but raw, that continued to snag him. He could have made a list of his favorite Luna traits, both positive and negative depending on who he asked (which was no one). Yet if he made a list, it would be one sentence long.

What he liked about Luna was _the way she made him feel_. Comfortable, relieved, happy, excited. Ginny had given him a key to the flat, but he didn't use it. Whenever he knocked on the front door his heart pounded, knowing if Luna answered she was the only one home, and had time to spend with him.

When he had trudged to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Harry had felt isolated. He had learned a long time ago that he couldn't talk about his problems with Ginny to Ron or Hermione because their opinions were too biased. And Neville's advice never changed, it was always: "You two have to _talk,_ Harry. You have to work it out instead of making up and pretending it never happened, or you'll keep fighting about the same things, over and over." School chums weren't the kinds of people he could discuss something deeper than a puddle with, either.

Seeing Luna tonight had been a beacon of hope. She was both a distraction and a friend who simply wanted him, she'd urged once, to feel good about himself. He could talk to her because she could see the _real_ Harry Potter that only appeared when they were alone...

Except she couldn't, he was finding out. Why couldn't she see him? Luna had always been able to see through everyone.

Luna had a sip of her drink and Harry copied her. "Why do you _want_ me to see you?"

"I didn't know you couldn't. I always thought… I could hide from everyone but you, Luna," he said quietly.

"I've thought the same thing, that you could see right through me."

Harry shook his head. "I was so worried about myself that I couldn't. I couldn't see you because _I_ was too busy trying to hide."

Luna spun her stool so she could face Harry full-on. Harry averted his eyes in reflex, then lifted his head, inch-by-inch, until their gazes met.

And he felt it, that Luna Stare going through his eyes and out the back of his head. Luna blinked and turned away, her hand a visor for her eyes.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I could… I can see you, Harry."

His chest ached, tightening with unease, exhaling with relief. "You can?"

"Yes," she said, quivering as if she were going to cry. "You can see me now, too… can't you?" She put her hand down.

Luna turned to glass.

Harry could see her, all of her, inside and out. He could see her heart—he could see the name branded there.

His name.

This couldn't be happening. Someone had spiked his drink, or cast a spell on him, something, anything. It was far too surreal, even for his world.

But if he hadn't been dropped into another dimension... and he could see her heart... did that mean _she_ had seen _his?_

"If you can see me… if you can really see me, Harry…"

The silent request hovered above them. Luna's lips had stopped moving, but Harry could see past them.

 _Kiss me,_ she'd said.

So he did.

"We've been wishing for the same thing," he said against her lips.

"I didn't want you to know… you're not mine," Luna sighed, and pulled away.

Harry glanced at the bartender, who went back to pretending to polish glasses.

"You're Ginny's," Luna said, resting a cheek on her fist. Harry could tell she was trying to control her tone, her volume, her emotions, and was almost succeeding. "You two have broken up three times, and within a day or so it was as if it never happened. You've been Ginny's for _four_ _years_ , Harry. Nothing's changed."

Harry thought. Since their first break up at Hogwarts, Ginny hadn't kept her feelings for him a secret. It scared other girls off. It kept Harry within reach, too, because it would be a lie to say he didn't like being liked, or pursued, especially by someone so pretty and popular. When they did reunite, and gossip about their fights spread, he'd heard that bets were being taken on how long they'd be broken up _this_ time.

Yet just _once_ had he questioned his relationship status, and that was when he recognized his feelings for Luna in March.

"Maybe before... I belonged to Ginny. But I don't belong to anyone right now," he told Luna decisively.

"Does saying that make it true?" Luna asked, in the same controlled, even voice.

Harry stared at her long and hard. "Does it, Luna?"

 _ **May - Luna**_

 _Does it, Luna?_

Luna had already asked herself that—that was why she had asked _him!_

Harry took another drink and set his bottle down with an annoyed thump. Luna hadn't intended to make him angry, but she didn't want to fool herself into believing that their kiss could lead to anything but a brick wall.

However Harry felt about her, he had only been Ginny's ex-boyfriend for two hours, two and a half hours at most. He _still_ belonged to Ginny! They had bared all to each other, but tomorrow the royal couple would make up, and Harry and Luna would go back to being opaque.

This was too much, the conflicting love, the surprising bitterness. She had gotten what she always wanted, but in the wrong way, and Ginny ever found out, Luna would lose one of her only friends. So instead of feeling like she was floating on the happy Ninth Cloud she had heard about, Luna was sinking into a substance that was far warmer. Like lava. Or baking chocolate chip cookie dough.

"I'm drunk," Luna lied. Suddenly frenzied, she rummaged through her purse to find the money to close her tab. She was going for a whirlwind act of temporary insanity and gunning on speed. If she could just _get away_ from Harry, this would stop. The _thinking_ , the worry, the hope, damned hope, would stop goading her.

Harry was dumbfounded as she found the right coins, some dusty with sand, and dropped them on the counter. Luna closed her purse and stood. She just had to make it to the door. "I have to go. I'm drunk," she repeated.

"No, you don't, and you're not that drunk. I know and you know you're not," Harry said.

"I am, and I do, before this goes any further… I never saw you here tonight. Don't tell Ginny—don't tell anyone that—!"

Harry stood and pulled Luna to him, smothering her last words with his lips. Her body betrayed her and responded.

He gathered her in his arms. "Are you _still_ drunk?" he asked, their noses nearly touching. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm... halfway drunk," she assessed, weakly.

"Don't you want this as much as I do? If you don't, tell me now, and I'll stop..." Harry kissed her again, and again, and his hand, so warm, had gone under her shirt and was sliding up her bare back. "Even if I'll know you're lying, I'll stop..."

Here she was, being held and kissed by the man she had been in love with for so long, a dream that was becoming truer with every passing second…

...But this living dream was saving its pain for tomorrow's nightmare, wasn't it? She should walk away. Luna _needed_ to walk away. She couldn't become involved with Harry, not like this.

Yet...

 _I'd rather have him for one night, have him be mine for one night… than never at all,_ Luna realized.

 _Even if it means losing Ginny._

She knew the equation didn't make sense, that it left her with a negative balance, but...

But...

"Don't waste this, Luna," Harry whispered.

She should have made a break for the door.

 _ **May - Harry**_

 _Don't waste this, Luna._

"Waste what?" she asked.

One second Harry was throwing all of his common sense out of the window, the next he was obsessing over every thought, every word he spoke.

He looked down at Luna, who was pretending to be watching him blankly. He knew she was pretending because her eyes gave her away. Hope and mistrust battled there, and Luna was afraid, afraid of giving in to the same desire that thumped inside him.

Harry was afraid, too. He didn't know what would happen tomorrow. But tonight, he wanted to be with Luna.

He was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Did Things First And Asked Questions Later.

" _This,"_ said Harry emphatically, encircling Luna's waist and pressing his stomach against hers. "Don't waste _this_ Moment. Once it's gone... it's gone." He dared another kiss, and this time, Luna one-upped it. What that did to him didn't make her retreat, and he had to separate their lips to whisper, "I want to be with you now, Luna."

"If you truly mean that... let's go," she whispered back.

Thirty seconds later, he had Apparated them his flat door.

Harry hurried to unlock it and didn't bother looking for the light switch—he was already kissing her. He barely got the door closed and re-locked as Luna took her turn and came back at him, turning gentle kisses into something more aggressive. There was passion and abandon in all of her actions, her lips, her eyes, her hands.

Harry felt her shiver under his touch, making his blood race, his heart beat loud in his ears as he shivered himself, wanting—it was all happening so fast—

Luna's shirt was thrown to the floor.

Harry's shirt joined it.

"One night…" Luna was murmuring as he kissed her neck. "You're mine…"

"I'm yours." Harry swiftly led her into his bedroom, then laid her on his bed. He turned to close the door and heard something clatter to the floor behind him.

Harry spun, and Luna turned to look at him, just in her bra and skirt. Even in the dark, he could see the trace of a smile on her face and gave her a slow, feral grin.

He closed the door and took off his glasses. He wouldn't need them.

This wasn't exactly what he had intended to happen, but he would definitely belong to Luna tonight...

He was wakened by slits of sun coming in through his blinds. Harry groaned and shaded his eyes.

It took him a couple shakes of the head to realize that Luna wasn't in the bed—or in the bedroom. They had stayed up most of the night, becoming passionate again and again, and talked in-between about nothings and nonsense. At one point Harry joked about being famished and Luna went to the kitchen, returning with fresh tea and pastries Harry had picked up the day before. They sat up in bed, the red sheets wrapped around Luna's chest, eating and sneaking kisses with mouths sprinkled with jam, frosting, and chocolate.

"Luna?" Harry called hoarsely, wondering if she had gone to the bathroom. There was no response, so he got up and started for the door.

Taking his first step, Harry did two things. First, he felt something hard and flat under his foot. Then he slipped on it.

He hit the floor and he cursed loudly, very much awake now.

Cheek-to-floor, he picked up the object he had slipped on. It was a framed picture of Ginny, laughing while Harry mugged for the camera. It took him back to that Moment, the two of them at the Weasley's dinner table at Christmas. Ginny had told the family she and Harry were dating again, and Mrs. Weasley had beamed and told Harry she might as well start calling her his Mother-in-Law.

Harry's heart grew heavy as he got up, continuing to look at the photo. Who _was_ that person? Right... it was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the one who was destined to marry into the Weasley family, become the greatest Auror since Mad-Eye Moody, and the greatest Wizard since Albus Dumbledore.

But if that was Harry Potter... then who the hell was he?

The Muggle cellphone in his pants pocket, on the floor, began to ring. It continued as he watched Ginny giggling, and, after hearing the signal that a voicemail had been left, he reluctantly listened to the message.

 _Beeeep._

" _Harry? It's me..."_ Ginny's voice was tired, sober, and hungover. _"I woke up a little while ago and... well, I realized what happened last night. I'm sorry I got so angry at you. Can you call me? I miss you already, Harry... I'm such an idiot."_

 _Beeeep._

He set the phone and photo on his nightstand and sank onto the edge of his bed. Across from him was Luna's painting, and the girl inside was watching the planets revolve with more fascination than ever.

The night before with Luna had been wonderful, but... Harry's eyes slid back to Ginny's picture. Had he made his move too soon? He should have predicted the path Ginny would take this morning—Luna's line about break-ups to make-ups had been true. Ginny wasn't the perfect girlfriend, but had her mistake last night given him the right to be intimate with Luna within hours of it happening?

 _No,_ Harry thought to himself, feeling ashamed and confused. _But... I only promised Luna one Moment..._

Was that all he had wanted from her? One Moment?

He had gone with his gut last night, and this morning, his gut was telling him something entirely different.

"Regrets?"

Luna was in the doorway, fully dressed, her face devoid of emotion.

Or pretending to be, yet again. He could feel the fire radiating from her eyes.

"I..." Harry trailed off, not knowing how to answer the question. He sighed and went for honesty as bare as he'd been last night. "Yes."

Luna nodded knowingly. "You were always Ginny's." The words were soft, but they struck his chest like bullets. "I knew it, but I pretended it wasn't true, for a little while."

Harry couldn't continue to meet her eyes.

Luna straightened her purse strap. "I'll see you around, Harry." She pivoted and was out of sight.

Harry started to call after her, but he'd already heard the front door slam. What was done was done.

The Moment was over.

 _ **May - Luna**_

Harry's regrets had turned into Luna's regrets. She thought she had known all of the rules and regulations of taking advantage of the Moment, but the part she hadn't counted on was the aftermath. She had expected to be hurt, but she hadn't known she would hurt _this_ badly.

She took her time walking home that bright, spring morning, wearing the same clothes she'd worn yesterday. "The Walk of Shame," that's what she was doing. She was the stereotypical Uni girl walking home after a beautiful night with a beautiful man that had turned into an ugly morning because of his ugly rejection.

Why _wouldn't_ she have expected this to happen, when she knew a Moment was just that, a brief space in time? How could she have been so naive to think that after one night alone with Harry, whose freedom she was only too aware was temporary, she would be... they would be...

For the first time in her life, Luna fully comprehended why she was called "Loony."

"Hey, Luna." Ginny was groggy from her long night, sipping a cup of tea at the cute kitchen table they'd bought. Boxes and crates were scattered about, half-packed. Tomorrow they would move back to their parents' homes for the summer.

"Hi." Luna looked at Ginny with a mixture of jealously, shame, and pity. Ginny was supposed to be her friend, but Luna given that up for a few hours of bliss followed by overwhelming pain.

Ginny blew a tangled lock of red hair out of her eyes. "You won't believe the night I had... but where have _you_ been, young lady?" She grinned. "Did you—who was the lucky guy?"

"No one." If Harry felt anything like she did, he certainly wasn't very lucky. "After my celebration, I just took a long walk. I've practically been all over London," Luna lied.

"Aww! Just when I thought I was going to hear something good, too."

"I can't room with you next year, Ginny," Luna dropped, unable to bear it any longer. There was no way she could live with the friend she had betrayed, no way she could go back to seeing Harry at the flat again when he and Ginny would get back together...

Ginny's face fell, and Luna felt horrible. Ginny was the truerfriend here. " _What?_ Where did that come from? _Why_ , Luna?"

Luna forced a smile, something she hadn't had to do since her mother passed and she got tired of adults asking if she was all right. "I did a lot of thinking during that walk. I need a bigger studio, and I'll be so busy with schoolwork that I won't be much company. Sophomore year will be a lot harder than this one." That sounded vaguely normal. "It's been fun, but I need my own space if I'm going to get through two Majors in Uni."

Ginny nodded, put-out. "I guess... I understand. Harry and I are always around, aren't we?"

Luna shrugged. Yes, she and Harry would always be around, and Luna couldn't bear it. She sat her purse on the table and headed over to the orange, cat-shaped kettle she'd baked just for Ginny. She needed a cup of tea to prepare for the hard minutes ahead.

"Anyway, how was your night?"

Ginny groaned. "Terrible... I'm such an idiot... I got wasted... broke up with Harry for the zillionth time..."

Luna smiled sympathetically and touched Ginny's shoulder.

 _ **June - Luna**_

"Luna! Hey Luna, Loo-Loo-ooo-na! Get over here, you crazy girl!"

Luna closed her eyes, trying to ignore the voice that was growing more insistent with every "Loo." She wouldn't be able to stand it much longer, but she could try. _Why_ had she gone to the Burly Troll tonight?

Oh, yes... the last time she went to the Leaky Cauldron she'd been with Neville, who complained he hadn't seen her for weeks. Neville told her about his first date with Diana Sanchez, a Photography major, and thanked Luna for introducing them. He might not have talked to her if Luna hadn't reminded him that if he judged a book by its cover he would miss out on a lot of good reading.

He said things had gone so well a third date (third!) was planned to watch a friendly football match between the English and Spanish national teams. Harry was going to give him tickets.

Ginny had once told Luna that the Ministry had gotten every major sports team in Muggle and Magical Britain to send Harry tickets to every game, and he was "asked" to attend one of these matches once a month. So once a month, the tabloids showed a picture of Ginny waving at the camera while Harry's smile under his prescription sunglasses looked so painful it made Luna's jaw ache. She had not purchased any tabloids recently, even her father's, for this reason.

"That was really top of him to offer once he heard Diana was a football fan," Neville went on. "But... you know what Harry said when I asked how I could thank him? 'Put on a pair of sunglasses and draw a scar on your forehead before you get there.'" Neville chuckled, but Luna knew he didn't find it any funnier than she did.

That's when Luna started crying.

She had ended up confessing her troubles in such a state that Tom cut her off, even though she'd only had three Butterbeers. Luckily, she and Neville had been the only patrons besides a Hag in the far corner, who was having a fantastic time staring at an empty wall when Luna's tears started to run.

Neville wasn't her oldest friend for nothing—she didn't have to make him swear not to tell anyone, and he didn't interrupt her until she was done expressing frustration over Harry choosing Ginny over her, shame over betraying Ginny, and loneliness, even though it was her own fault. Convincing herself to go out or talk to anyone was a struggle when she didn't _have_ to during summer holiday. Neville had given her a hug and told Luna, sweetly, that things were never as bad as they seemed, and everything would work out if she allowed time to let it happen. He urged her to try a new hobby and suggested she force herself to go out at least once a week, even if she wasn't up to it. If she didn't he'd drag her out, he threatened with a smile.

Returning to the Cauldron was too difficult to consider, though it had been her favorite bar. She couldn't stay at home, because drinking alone was far too depressing. Luna chose the Burly Troll, a hotspot for D.U. students, for her first solo outing. It was a Tuesday night during holiday, so it couldn't be as crowded as it was during the academic year, she'd thought.

Wrong. When Luna arrived and saw all of the warthogs snorting and shoving, the music pumping, and colored lights flashing, she almost walked right out.

Then she spotted a darkened corner all the way at the end of the bar, where one stool was left. It was easier to be anonymous in a crowd, she remembered. Though the music was too loud, the idea that she wouldn't have to hear anything else was appealing. And if she squinted her eyes a bit, the colored lights turned into rainbow fireflies.

After finishing her first Bloody Mary, the familiar yelp, much, much louder than the DJ, had destroyed her anonymity.

Ginny was waving her over to a booth. "LU-NA! LU-NA LOVE-GOOD!" Ginny yelled, and half of the place had turned to look at her.

Sighing, Luna took a swallow of her new drink and tried to distinguish each member of the pack that surrounded Ginny through the flashing lights: Ronald, Hermione, Neville, without Jim Finnell but _with_ Diana, and one or two of the University's Chasers... Katie Bell and... Angel Jo—no, Angelina Johnson.

Okay, she could breathe, somewhat. Ginny didn't know about Luna's betrayal, so while this meeting would be painful, she would be able to handle herself. "Hullo!" she yelled.

"Harry, bring Luna back with you!" Ginny called across the floor.

Luna took a long, _long_ drink. She dared a look to her right, and there was Harry, waiting for the bartender to fill two pitchers with Butter- and Bitterbeer.

"Hey," he said flatly.

"Hi," Luna said, to the stick of celery in her drink.

"How have you been?"

"The same." Luna knew he was looking for a general answer, not the truth, even though it _was_ the truth. A month had passed, and when she woke up each morning, Luna felt like the Moment had happened only the night before. "You?"

"It's strange not being friends anymore."

The bartender handed Harry the pitchers, he headed to Ginny's booth. Luna finished her drink and followed.

Harry refilled everyone's mugs, and Ginny planted a kiss on his cheek before turning to Luna, who was saying hello to everyone. Despite her secret, it was good to see her friends. When she hugged Neville, he whispered, "Are you going to be okay?"

Luna was saved from answering by Ginny. "What are you doing here, Luna?" she hollered. "I thought you liked the fogey Cauldron better!"

"I thought it wouldn't be as busy here tonight," Luna replied, also raising her voice to be heard over laughs and music.

"Not with summer Quidditch training going on! Go London Manticores!"

The crowd nearby roared their approval. Luna had forgotten that the grossly popular University Quidditch team trained year-round. Fans and players would flock to the Burly Troll after a long practice, especially if Harry Potter, King Seeker, was present.

"I haven't seen you since moving day!" Ginny shouted.

"I've been busy!" Luna shouted back, a good, catch-all response.

"I missed you!"

"I missed you, too!"

She did. No one else handed her a brush for a microphone and said her verse was coming up, one-two-three-four!, or had tea with her at two in the morning because there wasn't a good reason not to, gave her purple hair for a day to match her own ("We're sisters!" Ginny had squealed), or, besides Neville, and... someone... once upon a time, asked her, with real interest, "How are you?"

"I was just introducing everyone to Diana, but you two don't need an introduction," said Neville, smiling while Luna loathed herself.

"The best photographer-reporter team on the paper?" Diana shouted proudly. "Our _work_ introduces _us_ , thank-you-very-much." Katie rolled her eyes as Diana leaned into Luna's ear and whispered, "The famous one's a bore, the redhead won't stop gaping at my septum ring, the other redhead looked like she wanted to stab me when I accidentally touched the famous one's arm, all the brunette wants to talk about is the formulas of all the chemical reactions that go on in the darkroom-like I _know!-_ and the other two think I can't hear them making fun of my dreads under their breath. Tell me I'm going to have fun."

"You're with Neville, aren't you?" Luna asked, in her normal voice. "And remember that thing I said about books?"

Diana held up her hands in surrender. "You win, Lovegood. Speaking of books, you know Neville's thinking about getting a tattoo?" she asked gleefully.

The table exploded, and everyone began talking over each other. Katie asked if Neville was serious. Hermione suggested Neville just use a charm and Diana countered that charms weren't permanent, but she didn't care if Neville got one or not because he was hot either way. Angelina murmured, with a thoughtful look at Neville, that that was true, wasn't it? Ron said he would get a dragon across his back, that would be awesome. Ginny suggested Neville go classic and get a tattoo on his upper arm—oh and Luna could design it! Neville said it was just a thought but that was true, Luna _could_ design it, what was the going rate for a commission? Harry said, "Cool."

Eventually someone suggested they go dance. Neville said something to Diana, and she deferred him to Luna. He tried to lead her onto the dance floor, but Luna gave him a short shake of her head, and he and Diana went alone. "You're missing out," Diana shouted over her shoulder. Neville threw Luna a questioning thumbs up, and she slowly returned the motion. She hadn't realized that...

" _You_ don't want to dance?" Harry asked.

Luna stared at the unexpected disturbance. "No."

"When did that start? At homecoming, you were the last one on the floor at the end of the night."

"I was nimptopsical," Luna countered, even though she'd been sober at the time. Luna loved to dance, even if the music was only in her head.

Harry grinned. "So what?"

Luna refused to grin back. " _So,_ I don't _feel_ like dancing."

"Liar," Harry chided, and tears sprang to Luna's eyes. How did they get here—from friends to lovers to _this?_ She had shared herself with this man, she had kissed chocolate off of his lips. His girlfriend was dancing fifteen feet away from him, and for some reason, he wanted to put on a show as if the Moment had never happened.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I want to dance with you." Harry placed his hand in the small of her back and steered her onto the dance floor.

There it was, that numb feeling, of Not Knowing What to Say Next. The song at max volume was the opposite of the personal soundtrack that had been playing in her head for a month, with a joyful, energetic melody:

 _We say goodbye and hello over and over again_

 _You and I, we circle each other round and round into eternity_

 _That is where we are headed_

Harry stopped in the middle of the beating throng and shifted back and forth in time with the music. He was stiffer than Neville or Ron, who were dancing with enthusiasm. "I'm not much of a dancer, could you tell?" he shouted.

 _From those days when we hurt each other over trivial things_

 _Something in my memories has come back to me_

The music flowed into Luna's body, making her move even when she didn't want to. She danced, snakelike, her hands rising above her head.

Harry was smiling at her now, and became a little bolder with his own moves. His feet hit the ground a little harder, and his hips were going from side to side. Luna threw her head forward, then backward, hair flying. " _That's_ the Luna I know!" Harry yelled proudly, pointing. The group next to them, the same fans that had been on the fringes Ginny's table, whooped and hollered.

 _The ringing of our footsteps is a miracle that leads to the future_

 _Within these shifting sceneries... always_

"I don't understand you!" Luna said loudly. Usually Luna felt like she understood others _too well_ —she could stand in their moccasins, trade their hearts with hers. But Harry was another story.

"What?" Harry shouted.

"I don't understand you! I don't know what you want!"

Harry took a step closer to her, bobbing his head. "That makes two of us!"

 _We say goodbye and hello over and over again_

 _You and I, we circle each other round and round into eternity_

Harry twirled her, and let go of Luna as she continued to spin on her own. Then they began to jump, and Luna would have thought she looked silly if she were the kind of person who cared. Luna danced with more intensity, channeling all of her frustration and confusion into each movement. "No, it makes _one_ of us! You made your choice, Harry, and now you're acting like—"

Harry surprised her by grabbing her waist, each set of hips going in the opposite direction of the other's. His lips closed in on her ear, and she shivered. "Like we would have been acting if we had taken the Moment for what it was instead of what we hoped it would be?" he asked.

 _This melody, which will point out our futures, will play until the world changes_

How could her body could keep dancing when her brain felt like a hive full of bees?

Taking the Moment for what it was, a wish-come-true night with the man of her dreams...

Instead of what she had hoped it would be, a wish-come-true future with the man of her dreams...

Harry closed the space between them, placing his leg between both of hers so their knees touched—even though Luna could feel the crowd's eyes on them.

"That isn't the only thing," Luna said, in Harry's ear.

"Then what is it?"

"I thought it would be okay..." Luna swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "But you told me you regretted it, and I regretted it too, because I feel like I've ruined everything."

 _We are always saying goodbye and hello_

"You don't know w _hy_ I regretted it?" Harry's chest was pressed against hers. "Because I regretted having to hurt myself, you, and Ginny the next morning!" he whispered harshly. "Because I _loved_ the Moment we had, and knew I had to deal with the real world after something so... so _un_ real. There wasn't a way for all of us to win—even if I had chosen to be alone."

 _The sun will rise again and it will keep rising for all of eternity_

Luna stopped dancing. "Harry... I can't be your friend. I can't do this."

Harry stopped too. "Why?"

"Because it hurts too much. It hurts too much to lose."

 _Shining on our path are its radiant rays, showing us the way_

Luna untangled herself and walked away.

She made it through the parade of people and went inside the restroom. Pushing past the packs of girls gossiping in front of the mirrors, she found an empty stall, locked herself inside and sat on the toilet lid, relieved to have this bit of space to herself.

Harry had chosen to stay on with Ginny because he would hurt her if he told her he practically cheated on her with her roommate and friend. He would hurt himself one way or another because no matter who he chose, he would be hurting someone else.

 _Then why do_ _ **I**_ _feel like I'm the only one who lost?_ Luna wondered. _If everything he says is true... he_ _ **still**_ _didn't choose me because Ginny was more important—because he cared about her more, wanted her more._

 _I've told myself that already, but being sure of it doesn't make it any easier._

Harry and Ginny had each other, but Luna was just alone.

"That was _not_ cool."

Ginny's voice. Luna pulled her feet up, not wanting her loud, studded-and-sparkled sneakers to be seen.

"They were dancing really closely," commented Katie.

"Way too close," said Angelina.

Hermione snorted. "Don't get jealous Ginny, you dance the same way with guys when Harry isn't around."

"Harry hates to dance!" Ginny shot back. " _That's_ why I dance with other guys!"

"Maybe he hates dancing with _you_ ," cracked Angelina, making Katie giggle.

There was a pause, and Luna could imagine Ginny's face scrunching up into a pout.

"Jeez, just kidding Gin," Angelia assured her. "It's only Luna Lovegood anyway. What is he gonna do with _her?_ She's exactly the same... _weird_ kid she was in Hogwarts."

"Have some confidence in your relationship for once, Ginny," grumbled Hermione. "This Luna thing is getting out of control. First it's the painting, then—"

" _Ooh,"_ breathed Katie. "What painting?"

Harry still had the painting.

 _He still had her painting?_

"Luna made a painting for one of her art classes," Hermione relayed quickly, sounding sick of either talking about the subject or hearing about it. "Harry wanted it because most of it is a picture of space, the universe in motion just sped up a bit. I saw it once, and was really impressed at how accurate it is. Luna's a wonderful artist."

Luna blushed, despite her position on the lid of a loo. She'd never expected praise from _Hermione_.

Ginny made a noise and Hermione rushed to the point. "Luna also painted herself in the picture, so Ginny thinks Harry wanted it so he could have a picture of Luna in his bedroom," she groaned.

"That's dumb," said Angelina, at the same time as Katie said, "In his _bedroom_ _?_ "

"See, I told you I'm not the only one who thinks it's odd!" Ginny said triumphantly.

Hermione sighed loudly. "While I never thought Harry appreciated _any_ fine arts, do I think it's strange to have a painting in your bedroom? No."

"With another woman's picture on it? What if Ron had a picture in his bedroom of some woman by _his_ bed?"

Another sigh. "He _does,_ Ginny, remember? There's one of that Chudley Cannons Beater from the Quidditch Illustrated swimsuit issue. It's been there since he hit puberty."

Katie and Angelina snickered.

"Still! With Harry..." Ginny struggled to find the right words. "I don't know, it's just _weird._ And then..."

"And _then_...?" encouraged Katie. "I haven't heard gossip this good for months."

"See what you're starting, Ginny?" Hermione reprimanded.

Ginny sucked her teeth. "Well, remember the last day of school when all of us went out and I got plastered and broke up with Harry?"

Luna held her breath.

"I know I do," Hermione mumbled.

"That night, Luna went out to the ice cream parlor. She walks in the next morning wearing the same clothes, her hair a mess. The next thing I know, she says she can't be my roommate anymore—"

"I don't see what this has to do with Harry," remarked Angelina.

"You didn't let me finish! I went to Fortescue's the other day and the sign on the door says it closes at eight, but Luna went out at nine-thirty. I could smell booze on her breath when she came home, so I knew she'd gone drinking, even though she didn't tell me she had."

"This sounds like a detective drama," giggled Katie, while Luna nervously tried to guess where Ginny's deducing would lead.

 _"Then,_ I heard from Ron that Harry went to the Cauldron after he and I fought that night, and he wouldn't talk to me for a week afterward!"

 _He wouldn't?_ Luna thought.

"So what?" blurted Angelina, laughing. " _You_ broke up with him! I wouldn't want to talk to you for at _least_ a week if _half_ of what we heard you said that night was true!"

"Besides, how do you even know they saw each other?" Katie added.

"Didn't you tell me Luna moved out because she needed more room for her studio?" Hermione asked.

Ginny sighed, and Luna almost joined her. _Ginny_ _didn't know._ Things had not gone from Really Bad to Even Worse.

"Can we go now?" Hermione asked. "This isn't the most pleasant place to hold a conversation, even one as unpleasant as this."

"I'm with Hermione," said Katie. "You're bugging, Ginny. The picture I kinda get, but the other part's too circumstantial."

"I thought you only knew one cirum- word," Angelina snickered, and Luna heard a hit. "Ow!"

"It's just—I have this feeling, you know? Luna's my friend, and she and Harry seemed to get on well enough, but... oh, I don't know!" Ginny said, giggling. "I probably _do_ go a bit far with the jealously thing..."

"You don't say?" quipped Hermione.

"Oh, shut it!" Girlish laughter left the bathroom.

Luna took her feet off of the toilet. Ginny was suspicious of her, but had no proof, not realizing she was the only person who had come close to winning out of the three of them.

Suddenly, the stall next to her let out a series of noises that would make the Minister of Magic blush, and Luna hurried out of the bathroom before she was suffocated by poison gas.

"You could at _least_ wash your hands!" someone shouted after her.

 _ **June - Harry**_

Harry, Neville, and Ron were watching the gaggle of girls return from the restroom, drinking beer and making general male conversation like, "How 'bout those Tornadoes?"

Meanwhile, all Harry could think about was Luna. Had their Moment backfired so badly that she couldn't be near him?

He wasn't the only one who had jumped into the Moment with false expectations. Luna had thought that they would have found their way to each other afterward, too... but that hadn't happened.

Because he hadn't allowed it to.

Back and forth, back and forth for a month Harry had asked himself if he made the right decision, and tonight... tonight...

One of the reasons why he had chosen to stay with Ginny was because he thought that Luna was strong enough to handle that. She was, but now Harry knew that meant being cut out of her life.

Maybe _he_ was the one who wasn't strong enough to handle it.

"Where'd Luna go?" Neville piped up. "I thought she was with you girls."

Harry gave the room a once-over as the girls glanced at each other and shrugged. "She wasn't in the bathroom," volunteered Hermione.

"I saw her while I was grabbing more beer," Diana offered, returning to the table with two more pints. She gave Neville a significant glance. "She said she wasn't feeling well and to tell everyone goodnight."

Harry's heart descended into his shoes. She'd already left?

"Hope she's okay," worried Neville, voicing what Harry was thinking. "I'll call her when I get home."

"Who says you're going home?" Diana joked. When Neville blushed she winked and said, "You can call her from my place."

"Maybe she got sick because she danced with Harry," Ron suggested, elbowing him.

Harry laughed feebly. "Maybe," he agreed with a tired grin.

"How come you never dance with _me?_ " Ginny asked.

"Because I'm so terrible at it. I don't want to embarrass you, but I knew Luna wouldn't care."

Ginny had begun to smile, but it was artificial. Being a master at them, Harry could tell. "Oh. Where's my pint?" she asked quickly. Katie sympathetically handed Ginny her mug, and she tilted her head back to take a large gulp.

"Luna's not the type to judge how someone dances, of all things," said Neville, and Harry was grateful to him. "She just goes crazy out there. She's a lot of fun."

"Yeah, Luna's wild. I remember homecoming," said Ron, with devilish nostalgia.

"I'll bet," Hermione muttered.

"That picture of Luna that got into the paper—the Dancing Queen one—did you take it?" he asked Diana.

Diana nodded. "That picture was so good it landed me an internship!"

Harry knew the picture well, and if he hadn't had a copy like most of the school, he would have hidden it. Luna was dancing as freely as she'd been earlier, her hair flying and her body twirling and shimmying like one possessed. She'd gotten a week of notoriety at the University out of it; students hi-fived her when she passed on campus, or began to dance, while singing that old song about a Dancing Queen. All of this was done without mockery or malice, and Harry had been happy for Luna. Sometimes Luna had stopped to dance with them while Harry watched from afar, grinning.

"Does anyone want to dance some more?" Neville asked. "The DJ's supposed to be here for another hour."

"I'll help you not embarrass yourself, Harry," Ginny threw in.

"Er... I don't think so," Harry answered, chuckling. "I think making a jackass out of myself for one night is enough, thanks." Noticing Ginny's suspicion, he promptly said he needed to step outside for a breath of fresh air.

Out in the warm summer breeze, Harry leaned against the wall of the establishment and stuck his hands into his pockets.

Ginny was on to him.

He didn't know if he should feel worried or relieved, and consequently felt neither—just the same old confusion that surrounded his brain like London's same old fog.

"Hey, Harry?" Neville was leaning out of the Troll's door. "Maybe..." he began, glancing over his shoulder, "maybe _you_ should check on Luna tonight. You have her number, don't you?"

"I don't."

"I'll give it to you."

"Neville..." Harry put a hand over his face and sighed into it. "Luna and I aren't friends."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you should be," he said, ducking back inside.

 _ **July - Harry**_

The farmer's market. One of the most normal, boring places in the world.

Diagon Alley would have been a much more appropriate location for a Harry Potter sighting, but Hermione was going to cook for the Weasley family tonight and had invited him along. She had gotten lessons from Mrs. Weasley in the art of Magical Cooking and Baking, and was going to show off her new skills by preparing a five-course meal for eight.

However, she'd forgotten violets. Since Harry lived four blocks away from the farmer's market, she had called him in a panic, asking him to bring the flowers when he came over for the meal.

"Can't you just magick some up?" Harry had asked.

"No, it's not the same! They need to be fresh!" Hermione snapped.

"Go pick some. There's a field of wildflowers right off of The Burrow, you know."

 _"Harry."_ He could tell Hermione was trying not to lose patience with him, and he wanted to see how far he could push her. "I need _violets_ , notwildflowers, to make _violet_ cake for dessert," she explained in a sickeningly sweet, careful voice. "And you're right by the market. _Please?"_

"I don't know, it's kind of far..."

"HARRY! Do you want cake tonight or not?"

" _Personally,_ I'd rather have ice cream—"

"BE HERE WITH THOSE VIOLETS AT SIX!" Hermione shouted, ending the call on Harry's laughter.

So here he was, browsing a farmer's market during a sleepy Saturday afternoon. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. There was a stack of summer assignments he was supposed to complete for his Auror World History course, but he wasn't interested in doing them anytime soon—or anytime later, for that matter. The more he thought about school, the less he wanted to think about school.

Once in a while he wondered what other Major he could have taken and always came up empty. Harry had two talents, fighting Dark Wizards and Quidditch. He couldn't Major in Quidditch, though. And the Ministry, if not the rest of the country, would be slighted. They'd prod him to do something "productive" with his talents, seeing as he had destroyed Lord Voldemort and all. There wasn't a way out, yet half of the time he wasn't sure if he wanted one.

Harry was restless. No wonder he was comfortable among the silent tomatoes and apples, happy farmers with their children setting out fresh produce, and Muggles with wicker baskets instead of shopping carts. No one looked twice at him.

He found a tent-covered set of tables with flowers growing straight from the pot, fresh-cut flowers, packets of seeds, and gardening supplies. He scanned the flowers for a touch of purple and found the violets. That had been easy enough.

...Or not.

Luna was across the table, admiring a vase full of sunflowers bigger than her head. She gingerly touched a yellow petal as the sunshine danced on her hair.

" _I can't be your friend, Harry."_

Harry couldn't decide if he should leave before she saw him or approach her.

Naturally, his indecisive feet stayed rooted to the floor.

Maybe she could feel his stare, and that was why she had turned around. Or maybe the sun shining through his lenses had burned her skin.

"Oh," she breathed.

"I... I'm buying violets," he told her stupidly.

"I'm going to buy a sunflower," said Luna, lamely.

"They're pretty."

"So are violets. But... they're not Ginny's style. If you're looking for a gift, she'd probably appreciate a new broom."

A needle pierced Harry's chest. "You'd be right on that one," he managed. "But the violets are for a cake."

"You bake?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased, smiling when she smiled.

"I don't discriminate, you know. You could be a world-class chef."

"I _could_ , but I'm not even close. Do you do any baking, Luna?"

"Sometimes." Her gaze shifted, and Harry wondered if his discomfort was as palpable. Being around Luna was like pulling a rose out of the bush: one had to deal with the thorns before they could claim the flower.

But he couldn't claim Luna. He had already made his claim.

"What do you like to cook?" Harry babbled. He didn't want their conversation to end, as uncomfortable as it was.

Luna shuffled through her wicker basket. "Today I'm working with citrus," she said, showing off an orange. "I bought some lemons and pineapple, too."

"You cook oranges? Roasting or poaching?"

Luna started to smile again, but she quickly hid it away by pulling down the corners of her mouth.

"Don't," Harry said, reaching across the table for her cheek, wanting to tug her lips up. "Smile if you want to."

She leaned back from his hand, dropped the orange into her basket, and turned back to the sunflowers. "You're a giraffe, I'm a Snorkack. We're not friends, Harry."

 _Giraffes and Snorkacks aren't friends?_ Harry thought. "We don't have to be." He went around the table to be closer to her. "What else are you going to cook?" He picked a sunflower out of the vase. "Besides oranges, I mean."

Luna watched him curiously, suspiciously. "Chicken," she said, gently plucking the sunflower from his fingers.

"What else?" Harry prodded, as Luna motioned to the woman behind the tables.

"Rice... mango... sweet potato..." Luna pulled a pound from her purse and handed it to the cashier, who nodded and smiled at them.

"Good choice! Roses stand for love, but sunflowers stand for _loyalty._ I'd rather get one of those over a rose any day," the woman said brightly.

Harry and Luna went stiff as the woman went to help another customer.

"I've never had a mango," said Harry robotically. "What do they taste like?"

"You..." Luna looked down at the sunflower before meeting his eyes again. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to."

"Why are you doing this, Harry?"

It was Harry's turn to ask himself the same question. "Because... even giraffes get hungry. And you're cooking, right?"

Luna shook her head.

They both knew he was lying.

But somehow... Harry ended up following her home.

 _ **July - Luna**_

Luna was taking Ginny's boyfriend home with her, even though it would hurt both of them. Even though she had vowed to stay away from Harry and all Harry-related activities.

She hadn't expected him to be at the farmer's market. Luna had taken up a hobby like Neville suggested, and every week for a month she had been a faithful shopper, cooking themed meals with farm-fresh foods. Luna never thought she would be able to cook, as she was known to burn water, but with practice she had gone from dishwasher to amateur chef.

On Saturdays, the planning, shopping, and cooking took her mind away from her low thoughts. The newest were the writer's- and painter's block that she had been plaguing her since school ended.

Now Harry had caught her off-guard, wormed into her day, her life, when all she wanted to do was forget him. It was hard to say which was more painful, having Harry around or not.

She took him to her new loft, and on the back deck he helped her fire up the charcoal grill. Luna loved her backyard, small but well-cared for by the previous owners. The grass was healthy, there was a tiny Japanese rock garden with a footbridge over a miniature pond, and orchids grew everywhere.

Luna showed Harry how to make kebobs using the chicken she had marinated, green and red peppers, pineapple, and mango. Harry was a master with the knife, slicing cubes with ease as Luna prepared the hamburger patties. Luna often left the cutting board bleeding, but this didn't bother her. Muggle bandages had pictures of white cats wearing bows, buck-toothed sponges wearing pants, and smiling monkeys wearing red boots on them. It was much more fun to wear the bandages than use a healing spell.

When Luna inquired about Harry's culinary skills, he told her about cooking for his Muggle family as a boy. The memories weren't fond, but they were entertaining.

"You're probably the only one who hasn't made a pity party of it all," Harry concluded, sticking the last piece of mango on the end of the last wet bamboo stick. "Everyone else just tells me how sorry they are for me, or how _amazing_ it is that I came out in one piece."

"I hear the same thing from people who knew my mother," Luna offered, taking the kebobs from him. They would sit on a tin tray until it was their turn to grill. "Except they say it's a wonder I'm not as brilliant as she was."

"You got straight O's in two Majors! That isn't even easy for Hermione!"

Luna shrugged off his compliment. "And you're Harry Potter. Looks like we both made it," she said, without emotion.

He was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Defeater of Voldemort, Big Man on Campus, Official Boyfriend of Ginny Weasley. She was nothing but Loony Luna Lovegood.

She handed Harry a pair of tongs. "I'm going to go get the rice and gravy ready, can you put the sweet potatoes on?"

Harry agreed, hurt, and Luna headed for the sliding glass door that connected her kitchen and deck. Once inside, she saw that the pot of water on her stove was was boiling and poured a cupful of rice into it. Then she started preparing the gravy.

In no time at all she was whisking away, focused on the gravy, not Harry. She stopped to taste, adding a bit of pepper here and a dash of salt there.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Luna's neck stood up. She broke out in goosebumps, despite the humid day.

Harry was behind her. She _knew_ he was behind her, so close she could feel his body heat. The thought dragged her into memories of Harry tutoring her, of asking if she wanted any help putting up WANTED posters for her missing things at Hogwarts, of every time she had felt him radiating next to her.

Luna held her breath. What was he doing? She kept on whisking, wondering, wondering...

Her temperature returned to normal, and the hairs on the back of her neck went limp. She turned and saw Harry returning to the deck.

Confused, intrigued, frightened, she put the whisk down and tiptoed over to the glass door.

Harry was sitting on one of her deck chairs, staring off into space. Luna watched his chest heave with a sigh, his hand running through his hair, longer and messier than the last time she'd seen it.

She sympathized. She worried the same way, she questioned herself, she was depressed. Before May, these feelings had only made rare and short appearances in her life, and now they were worse than in-laws that barged in whenever they felt like it, having made a copy of her keys.

The Moment had turned her into someone she didn't know.

"This has to stop," Luna murmured, staring at the man on her deck. But what exactly was _This_ _?_ Her feelings, herself, or her relationship—or lack of relationship—with Harry? She figured she had two options:

a) Stop talking to Harry. Period. Tell him to get out and refuse to acknowledge him again, no matter how hard it was.

b) Take today's Moment for what it was and throw her surplus feelings aside, no matter how hard it was.

Both choices would force her to ignore her feelings for awhile, and both were sure to bring on suffering later. Therefore, regardless of which choice she chose, neither would work unless she refused to remain in this sub-Luna state.

But was she strong enough to do that? And if she was, what would her final choice be? Could she keep Harry in her life, take him for what he was, and still be happy?

 _ **July - Harry**_

Harry had wanted to touch Luna so badly.

He had gone inside, wanting to talk to her, planning to tease her to pull her mind away from that darkness that had made her uncharacteristically bitter. Then he had stared at her body curving naturally in front of the counter and nearly lost it. His feet guided him behind her, close enough to smell Luna's sweet perfume. Harry's hands were next to lose control, hovering over either side of her waist. He lost himself in a daydream where he touched her hips, and as Luna turned to look at him, smiling, he kissed her neck.

The longer he waited, the more time he had to think about it. Being here was already bad enough... pursing someone he should be avoiding—who wanted to avoid _him_ —was bad enough... and Harry slunk away.

Yet as he sat on Luna's deck, Harry was becoming surer and surer that he wanted to be with her. Being with Ginny because it made sense did exactly the opposite—it made no sense at all, because he wasn't happy. Harry just didn't know if he could be strong enough to break the mold he had helped cast. Could he hurt the Weasley family that had treated him like a blood member for so long? Could be himself in public and private?

And if he could do all of that, would Luna take him? Did she want him at all?

Harry went to the grill to check on the potatoes. If he burned their dinner, he wouldn't have an excuse to stay over. Besides, he could worry and wonder the same standing as he could sitting down.

Luna returned, humming to herself as she carried a tray with a glass pitcher and two cocktail glasses. "Mai Tai's?" he guessed, as he helped Luna prepare the drinks.

"Today's a Hawaiian theme," Luna explained, looking much more at ease. "Last week I did Japanese and made sushi and tried sake for the first time."

"You do a theme every Saturday?"

"Next week is Mexican. I'm thinking of making _mole._ "

Harry almost started to ask if he could come back next Saturday, but stopped himself. Luna took a seat next to him and picked up a glass.

Harry held his glass in the air. "A toast?" he suggested, and Luna nodded. "To what?"

"To honesty," she decided, tapping the rim of her glass against his.

Harry wondered exactly what she meant by that, but repeated it anyway. "To honesty."

"Cheers, Harry." She took a sip.

Harry sat and took a sip too. What had made her drop her guard? "Luna... what's going on?"

"I... I want to be me today, whether you're here or not."

Harry held his breath. Like that night in May, Luna had turned crystal clear—he could truly see her. "I'm glad."

Luna smiled, and Harry hoped she could see him, too. "Do you mind if I paint for awhile before dinner?" she asked.

"Not at all."

Luna set up her easel and canvas on the deck. Harry helped get her palette and paints ready, remembering to get one cup of lukewarm water for mixing and one of warm water for rinsing her brushes.

"Thanks," Luna said, getting right to work.

Harry put the kebobs on and took a seat. When he leaned back the chair reclined, yielding to his stretch. He drank his Mai Tai, glanced at the sizzling grill, and turned his eyes back to Luna. He sighed contentedly. "I wish I could do this all the time," he said, more to himself than her.

"Do what?" Luna asked, dipping her brush into the sky blue paint.

"Have a Saturday with a theme dinner and sunshine while I watch you paint. Just... relax with you." He closed his eyes for awhile, soaking up the sun. "It's better than what I usually do on weekends—hole up in my flat until I'm bored to death."

"I can understand that." Luna put her palette and brush down, then took a hair elastic out of the pocket on the skirt of her sundress. "It's harder to see when my hair is all over my face."

Harry noticed the paint on her fingers. "Here, let me do that for you—you'll get paint all over your hair."

"I think blue and orange streaks would be interesting, don't you?"

"Maybe," he admitted, taking the elastic and standing behind her. After several seconds he laughed. "I don't really know how to do this."

"Just bunch it up and wrap the elastic around it twice. It doesn't have to be perfect."

Harry apprehensively followed her instructions. He gently gathered all of her hair together, brushing the nape of her neck to make sure he'd gotten every strand. Then he tied it up, taking care not to pull her hair or get it caught in the band.

In a silly way he was proud of himself, but his attention was focused on Luna. He was in the same position as he'd been in the kitchen, becoming overwhelmed with the urge to touch her.

" _I just want to be myself, whether you're here or not."_

 _Me too,_ Harry realized.

His hands were already circling Luna's waist, surrendering to himself. He gave her a soft kiss on the area he had just exposed, her neck, and took a dazed step back. Giving in had never felt so sweet, so satisfying.

Luna looked over her shoulder, and Harry froze.

 _Splat._ Luna tapped her finger on his nose, smearing him with blue paint.

Harry growled playfully and reached for her palette, gathering red and purple on his fingers and running it through her hair. "I think the streaks were a good idea."

Luna flicked orange flecks into his hair. "Me too," she agreed, giggling as Harry watched through paint-splattered spectacles. "Orange is really your color. But green looks lovely on you, too..."

They took up squeeze bottles of acrylics and went to war. They chased each other, screaming and laughing until they were doused in technicolor and Luna's canvas looked as if a rainbow had vomited on it. Harry ended the game by crying for mercy, claiming that the food was burning.

They washed their hands and Luna fried eggs to finish the moco loco while Harry set the table. He and Luna made light banter over their dinner until Luna brought out a dessert she had secretly prepared: Hawaiian wedding cake. There was a dent in the middle of it, but it was good.

His stomach full, Harry happily sipped another drink while Luna went back to her painting. He had questioned the state of her canvas, but Luna had smiled and said she had an idea. The sun was setting, and as she painted, he walked around her yard, stooping over once in awhile to get a closer look at the orchids. Then he went to the pond with the tiny footbridge, took off his trainers and dipped his toes into the cool water. He jumped back when something nibbled at his foot, and saw it was one of two orange and white koi fish. There was a toad cooling on a rock, too.

Harry played along for awhile, making a game of dipping his finger in he water and letting the fish chase it. He splashed his feet for fun, and from time to time looked back at Luna painting behind him and smiled. He said goodbye to his aquatic friends when Luna began putting her paints away.

"Finished?" Harry called out, holding his shoes and socks in one hand as he walked along the grass.

"It just needs to dry," Luna called back, pulling the elastic off of her hair. It fell in multicolored clumps around her shoulders.

Harry reached the deck and walked around the easel with anticipation. He smiled shyly when he saw the painting, but put a proud hand on Luna's shoulder. "It's wonderful."

Luna had used the half-dry paint on the canvas to create texture in the three-quarter shot of Harry sitting next to the pond. One leg was in the water as he watched sun set. His white tee shirt and hair were splattered with paint, and there was a streak of blue on his cheek. A toad splashed around his ankle while the koi swam lazily. The Harry inside the painting sat back and wistfully gazed at the setting sun.

"That felt good," Luna confessed, touching the canvas with a fingertip. She turned to look up at Harry appreciatively. "I didn't know what to expect when I saw you today, but you cured my painter's block, Harry."

"Anytime," Harry said softly, resting his chin on her shoulder and hugging her waist. "One down, one to go, right?"

"Do you..." Luna glanced at the house. "Want to stay awhile?"

Inevitably, it happened again.

The two of them were laying on her couch in the wide, open loft, listening to the fans turn when Luna kissed him. Harry responded like a man just out of prison—why did she have to feel so _goo_ _d?_

Harry carried Luna upstairs, turning off the lights along the way and kissing her neck, her fingers, her chest as they went.

Again, for one night, he belonged to Luna.

A perfect end to a perfect day...

Then the real world kicked in Harry's teeth. Or, to be more appropriate, pecked his hand.

Harry bolted up in Luna's bed. What was that? He rubbed his eyes and checked on her, but she was still sleeping. Then he looked over at the bedside table and jumped.

"What the—?" Harry whispered, as the teeny owl holding a rolled piece of parchment come into focus. "Pig?"

 _Shit. **Pig.**_

Harry snatched the parchment and shooed Pig off. Ron's owl hooted angrily and flew out of Luna's open window. Harry ripped open the letter, struggling to speed-read it in the moonlight:

" _Harry,_

 _WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? You've got Mum falling to pieces thinking something's happened to you, I tried to call you and text you and got no answer, Ron and I even stopped by your place and nothing, and Hermione's yelling about the violets you were supposed to bring."_

Harry groaned. _The violets..._

" _You've either gotten kidnapped by a new Death Eater or you're just one of the most inconsiderate arseholes I've ever met! Get over here NOW if you ever want to speak to me again! And bring some tissues for Mum and these violets Hermione's raving about! I know you haven't been kidnapped! Dinner started FOUR HOURS AGO!_

 _You'd better have one hell of an excuse!_

 _Love, hugs, hexes and kisses,_

 _Ginny"_

Harry got out of bed, careful not to disturb Luna, and started to put on his clothes. He felt hard bits, like plastic, on his shirt sleeve.

The paint! He had to change and take a shower before heading to the Weasleys'...

"Why should I even bother?" Harry mumbled, sitting back down on the bed. Dinner was over, and he had an excuse—he'd been sleeping, hadn't he? The easiest thing to do would be to owl back that he wasn't feeling well and had slept through dinner, his phone ringing and beeping, and knocks on the door... but he had already sent Pig away, and Luna didn't have an owl.

Was there any use for excuses? He had royally screwed up, and maybe now was the time to tell the truth. _"Ginny, I couldn't make it because I was with Luna."_

Just saying it in his mind made him feel like scum! Yet it was the truth, so didn't that _make_ him scum? He and Luna's first Moment was at least somewhat legitimate, but their second, he had outright _cheated_.

Being with Ginny had been a mistake. Not because he didn't like her, because he did. He just didn't love her. But if he broke it off, he could lose the only real family he had ever had. Would Mrs. Weasley be able to look at him the same after she found out Harry wouldn't be her son-in-law, and that he had fallen in love with someone other than her daughter? What about Ron, Mr. Weasley—all of them?

Harry scrambled to get the rest of his clothes on. He felt guilty for leaving Luna like this, so he picked up the first piece of parchment he could find and tiptoed downstairs for something to write with. He found a quill in Luna's studio, a section of the loft with the most windows, the brightest room even at night. Harry couldn't find any ink, so he dipped the quill in a pot of purple paint and scribbled a quick letter.

Then Harry placed the letter on the pillow he had used and gave Luna a quick kiss on the cheek. A smile splayed out over her lips even while she slept.

"Goodbye, Luna," he whispered.

 _ **July - Luna**_

Luna waited until she heard the back door close before opening her eyes and letting her heart sink into her stomach.

She had been herself today, but she wasn't sure who Harry was, or who he had been pretending to be.

She wasn't going to cry. No, she couldn't...

Luna sat up and pulled off the covers, blinking rapidly. She heard something crinkle in the sheets and fished it out. A letter? Had Harry left this for her? Why did he leave?

...Because he had forgotten the violets for a Weasley family dinner—because he had been with _her_. Ginny sent him love, kisses, hexes and hugs.

Luna crumpled the letter and tossed it across the room. Her hands were wet; purple smears were on her palms. It was bizarre, but she couldn't see the purple anymore, or anything else when her tears blurred everything.

She lay back in bed and sobbed. She had let Harry use her, not love her. In the end, he was never going to choose her. Now, she didn't want him to.

She was such a fool.

 _ **August - Luna**_

Luna had learned the virtue of patience at a young age. No matter how badly she wanted a double scoop, chocolate-strawberry cone when the Ice Cream Man drove around her neighborhood, or how many children were in line ahead of her, or even how hot and muggy the summer day was, Luna always waited until the final child had been serviced before approaching the counter herself. She was almost always rewarded with an extra scoop.

So when Harry stopped her from leaving The Leaky Cauldron, she waited, even though her feet itched, longing to run back out into the storm, where she felt safe.

She could be patient.

Luna had to know why Harry kept trying to reach her. She lingered, aching, and wondered if she would get an extra scoop of vanilla or clumsily drop her cone into the street.

 _ **August - Harry**_

Harry go of Luna's arm and took a step backwards. He stared at her staring at him, her eyes red-rimmed and watery, her hair stringy and wet.

"I don't belong to anyone," Harry began, his voice hoarse from running in the rain. "I don't belong to anyone anymore, but I've been waiting for you.

"I've been waiting for you, Luna. I've been waiting since that Saturday. But you won't—why won't you talk to me?" He had been trying to contact her for weeks, but Luna wouldn't answer her phone, her door, or letters, returned unopened. When Harry realized Neville knew more than he was letting on he begged him to help, but if Neville reported that if mentioned Harry's name, Luna refused to participate in the conversation.

"You left," said Luna.

Harry squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, but I had to go—didn't you read my letter?"

"I read it."

"Then why...?" Harry reeled, letting go of her hand.

His worst fear had come true.

She wouldn't take him now. He'd made his move too late.

Luna ran out of the last bit of patience she had. " _You_ don't _get_ to ask why anymore. _I_ deserve answers, not you. Were you so much of a coward that you left me the letter Ginny sent you instead of telling me that you _regretted_ it all over again, that you didn't want to be with me, that you _used_ me? Wasn't sneaking out enough?"

" _Ginny's_ letter?" Harry asked, confused.

"Answer me, Harry! Why did you pretend that day, after we promised to be ourselves—after we promised to be honest?"

"I'm not pretending now, and I wasn't pretending then!" Harry insisted, his chest aching with the effort. "I was _always_ honest with you, Luna!"

"Another grog!" the Hag in the corner shouted.

" _Shh!"_ Tom the bartender hissed.

"I didn't go through hell to pretend, Luna! I..." Harry hesitated, thinking, and gasped. "Ginny's letter— _Ginny's letter?_ "

He laughed wildly, and Luna was taken aback. "Luna—did you read the other side of it?"

"No... was there a P.S. I missed?" she asked sarcastically.

Harry laughed again and took her hands, grinning. "Luna, on the other side of that letter, I wrote my own letter to _you_."

"...In purple paint?" she asked looking at her hands, enveloped in his.

Harry nodded. "In _my_ letter, I said that I left to tell Ginny I had fallen in love with you."

"Harry..."

"I want to be happy, or as close to it as I can get. There were two things in my way, my school life and my personal life. So I decided to take a break from school until I know what I want to do with it, instead of doing it because I think I should. And..."

"And?" Luna whispered.

" _And_ , I decided I wanted to be with Luna Lovegood because _she_ makes me happy, even if she's a Snorkack and I'm a giraffe. Even if I had to dodge fists and hexes to do it."

Ginny had been irate at the news, yelling so loudly the whole house knew what had happened as it happened, and was the cause of most of the (deserved) hexes and fist-throwing. Ron only got off one hex before Hermione stopped him, which missed Harry by a hair. George and Bill were the muscle, telling Harry to get out before he got his neck broken. Mrs. Weasley was inconsolable, crying the tears Ginny hadn't shed. Hermione and Mr. Weasley were only surprised, and Fleur had watched the drama as if it were a talk show, perhaps waiting for someone to throw a chair. (Hermione had pried it from Ginny's hands.)

After letting Ginny cool off for a couple days, Harry had a long talk with her. She had been like a match waiting to be struck, Ginny confessed, because she had been suspicious of him and Luna all along. "Even though you're a shit who should have been honest with me, I like Luna, and you, enough to want both of you to do what makes you happy," she said thoughtfully. "Even if that means... it's over between us.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said, touching her hand. "I really am—and—I really... miss you."

Ginny sighed loudly. "I am _not_ going to cry again!" She swallowed and shook her head. "You're buying me rounds for the next year, _at least_. Luna too. Tell her to call me, will you?"

Harry spoke to Ron and Mrs. Weasley separately, explaining that he didn't want to break up with _them,_ too. They had agreed, but Ron hadn't forgiven him until he sucker punched Harry when he was looking away. "Even?" he asked, holding out his hand. Harry shook it, his jaw throbbing.

Mrs. Weasley had been teary as she told Harry she loved him like a son, even if he wouldn't be an son-in-law... but she didn't sound as if she believed what she was saying. (Hermione told him later that Mrs. Weasley thought he was "going through a phase, wanting to sow his oats with the Lovegood girl, but he'll grow out of it.") His relationship with the Weasley family wasn't back to normal and never would be exactly the same again, but it was getting better.

Harry kissed Luna, slowly, relishing the first time could do it with legitimacy. "Do you want to be with a giraffe, Luna?"

"Only if his name is Harry," Luna decided, kissing him back.

"Then it's settled." He took a long, happy look at the perfectly imperfect girl he loved, and loved him, as perfectly imperfect as he was. "What do we do now, Luna?"

"Dance," said Luna promptly.

Harry looked at the bartender. "You heard her, Tom."

Tom wheezed a laugh and turned on the radio behind the bar. The Hag called for another grog, and Harry and Luna danced into the night.


End file.
